On an unusually rainy day in South Florida, a small group of volunteers met at a church today to prepare a meal for sixty men, women and children in need of a hot meal. The volunteers included some of the members of the congregation I serve, as it does on every second Sunday of the month. We call it "Souper Sunday," and it is always a fun and a fulfilling time. This week, it seemed particularly appropriate.
This past Shabbat, we read the third and final "Haftarah of Affliction," the readings that prepare us for Tisha B'Av, which begins Monday night. The passage from Isaiah tells us that we should not offer empty and insincere worship to God, but rather, "Learn to do good. Devote yourselves to justice; aid the wronged" (Isaiah 1:17). I like to think that the spaghetti and meatballs, the chicken and tuna salad sandwiches, and the garlic bread we made today were more than a filling meal for the hungry; they also were a way of responding to God's call for justice.
Tisha B'Av was instituted in ancient times to mark the anniversary of the destruction of the First and Second Temples. But the day means a great deal more than that. The fast is not just to bemoan a tragedy that happened to our people long ago. It also is a day to grieve for a world that is heart-breakingly far from the world of our highest hopes.
This past Shabbat, we read the third and final "Haftarah of Affliction," the readings that prepare us for Tisha B'Av, which begins Monday night. The passage from Isaiah tells us that we should not offer empty and insincere worship to God, but rather, "Learn to do good. Devote yourselves to justice; aid the wronged" (Isaiah 1:17). I like to think that the spaghetti and meatballs, the chicken and tuna salad sandwiches, and the garlic bread we made today were more than a filling meal for the hungry; they also were a way of responding to God's call for justice.
Tisha B'Av was instituted in ancient times to mark the anniversary of the destruction of the First and Second Temples. But the day means a great deal more than that. The fast is not just to bemoan a tragedy that happened to our people long ago. It also is a day to grieve for a world that is heart-breakingly far from the world of our highest hopes.
We fast on Tisha B'Av because there are too many people who don't have enough to eat. We mourn because we ourselves are in disrepair if we do nothing to aid the wronged. We observe this day because the link between heaven and earth is severed and it can only be mended by our action putting the world to rights.
On Monday night, Jews across the world will sit in darkened sanctuaries and read the book of Lamentations about the destruction of Jerusalem more than 2,500 years ago. We will read it, not as a history lesson, but as a message for today. (Our service at Temple Beit HaYam will start at 7:30 p.m. Please come for one of the most powerful and moving services of the year).
It is true that there is an uneasy relationship between Reform Judaism and Tisha B'Av. Some of the early leaders of the Reform movement noted that we have no desire to return to the days of the Temple and its animal sacrifices. They said that we should do away with Tish B'Av. One Reform rabbi even proposed turning it into a day of celebration. (We'll discuss that on Monday night). But I think we need to mourn on Tisha B'Av, now as much as ever.
Is it too much? Is it too much to ask that we have one day of the year to weep for all the hungry, to mourn the victims of violence, and to pour our hearts out in our hope for a better world? That is what Tisha B'Av is for me. It is a day to renew our devotion to aid the oppressed and to rediscover the joy of bringing justice into the world. We grieve on one day of the year so that we will be better able to act on the other 364.
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